Broken
by Rhya Storm
Summary: Artemis Entreri must seek the help of his greatest enemy in order to regain a drow youngling that he has come to love as a son. RENEWED! REVAMPED! AND REINCARNATED!
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Artemis Entreri must seek help from his greatest enemy in order to regain a drow youngster he has come to love as a son. RENEWED! REVAMPED! AND REINCARNATED!

A/N: Yes, for those of you who were avid followers of the original "Broken" – I HAVE RETURNED! With a brand-new "Broken", all nice and shiny-new! The original plot-line remains – never fear – but written MUCH, MUCH BETTER than before, as most of the original was actually written about three years ago, and, let's face it – the original version (at least the beginning) needed some serious work.

MUCH THANKS must be awarded to **Iceheart Firesoul**, who is the wonderful person responsible for the return of my inspiration and a significant portion of the re-vamped plot-line. THANK YOU, YOU WONDERFUL PERSON, YOU!

**TO ALL READERS:** This story is _still_ an AU. Everyone is basically where they were at the end of the Legacy quartet. When I wrote this I had no idea what had happened to my favorite assassin, and so I made this up. Jarlaxle – forgive me – does not take part in this story. Wulfgar is still hanging out at Icewind Dale, all scarred and morbid-like. Catti-brie and Drizzt haven't gotten together yet. Delly is nonexistent. I very much enjoy the Paths of Darkness plotline and characters, but it just doesn't fit into this story. Thank you for your time.

And so – to old readers, welcome back! To new readers, hope you enjoy the ride! See ya'll on the other side!

* * *

The cold autumn wind howled over the tundra landscape, bringing with it the chill and promise of winter to the desolate land known as Icewind Dale. The first early snows had already fallen, leaving a four-inch-thick crust of snow over almost everything while the sun fought a loosing battle to clear the icy covering away.

A lone figure made its stubborn way up the hilly region of the dale, plowing heedlessly through the snow and ice. Few were brave – or foolish – enough to trek Icewind Dale alone, but this man was neither cocky nor soft in the head. In fact, this man was the last person anyone expected to come there.

Artemis Entreri, the famed assassin, was making his way towards Icewind Dale.

"Damnit," the assassin growled as he slowly made his stubborn way up the mountainous slope. Of all the places in the world, this was on the bottom of his list of places to be. And of all the people to be seeking – for _help_, nonetheless – he disliked this one even more than the region.

But, he reminded himself for the thousandth time since beginning his trek, he wasn't here without good reason. He was seeking this particular person for help because he knew that he was the only one who _could_ help. And that rankled him more than anything else, but there was too much at stake here to give in to past grievances. Much too much.

Over the past few years, Artemis Entreri's life had taken a drastic change – beginning with a lone drow youngling, not even fifteen as of yet. Some years ago, Entreri had found himself rescuing the misplaced youngling from a band of rogues. After the ex-assassin had rescued him, the drowling, who gave his name as Aari, convinced the gruff man to let him stay on with him and teach him of weaponry. Entreri had found the youngling to be an eager and capable student, full of potential, and soon began to realize that he was coming to enjoy Aari's light-hearted company.

Aari was possessed of a jubilant and unrelenting enthusiasm concerning everything that life managed to throw his way; and this constant, stubborn optimism was starting to rub off on his grouchy companion. Entreri slowly began to enjoy life once more as his apathy was worn away by his companion's unceasing gusto. Over the nearly three years that they had traveled together, the two had become very close. Entreri, though he rarely showed it, was proud of the young drow's accomplishments, and loved him like a son, though he scarcely admitted this even to himself.

But now, Aari was gone. Stolen. Vanished without a trace.

And Artemis Entreri, the fabled hunter, could not find him.

Entreri found it hard to believe that Aari possessed any enemies whatsoever. It was like trying to imagine a Lolth priestess offering children pastries and milk with a smile on her face – just downright impossible. So whoever had kidnapped his charge had to be someone from his own dark past, come back to haunt him once more. Entreri knew that, whoever it was that had stolen Aari, he would need help to get him back.

There was never any doubt in the ex-assassin's mind that he would get Aari back – and that whoever had stolen the drowling would pay. Dearly.

Ironically, the only person Entreri could ever trust to help – and not betray – him, with the goal so terribly important, was once Entreri's greatest enemy: Drizzt Do'Urden.

He had worked together with the drow ranger before – the both of them unwilling, but together fighting for their very survival. Entreri knew that the ranger had a good soul, something that was increasingly rare in Faerûn as more and more found little use for it. He could only hope that the ranger would be willing to help him now. He would have prayed, had there been any deity in whom he believed, but there was none.

The ex-assassin continued on through the snow of Icewind Dale, past Ten Towns, towards the mines of the dwarves. He knew of no other place that the drow ranger might be.

* * *

Drizzt Do'Urden, drow ranger and friend of the dwarves of Icewind Dale, looked down from Bruenor's Climb with more than a little curiosity at the lone traveler making its slow way up the dale. He knew of none that needed – or wanted – to travel up to the dwarven mines for business: the dwarves usually conducted their trade down in Ten Towns.

Curiosity piqued, the dark elf ghosted downwards, careful to conceal himself, in order to gain a closer look at the strange traveler. The man, for a moment, glanced about, giving Drizzt a clear look at his face – and the ranger nearly cried out in shock at what he saw.

Artemis Entreri!

The last time the two had fought, Drizzt had left assured that Entreri had lost his appetite for senseless battle between them. Apparently, he had been gravely mistaken, for he could think of no other reason that Entreri would travel to the dale.

The ranger peered down at the assassin, noting the many changes the years had wrought upon him. His hair was shaggy and unkempt, his beard unshaved for several days – a far cry from the clean-cut and controlled man of the past. He plowed through the snow quickly and urgently, his face twisted with some emotion – worry? Surely not.

Drizzt crept off towards the mines to warn his friends – Artemis Entreri had returned to Icewind Dale.

* * *

"_What_!"

Catti-brie gaped, disbelieving, at her friend's distressing news. Entreri returned? Impossible! The assassin had had no interest in ever coming back the last time they had parted; of this she was certain.

"Ye be sure, Drizzt?" she asked, though she knew there was no way her elven friend could have been mistaken. Sure enough, Drizzt nodded, his expression unhappy to say the least. He had no wish to ever meet Entreri again, she knew.

The human woman shook her head in despair – would the assassin ever be free of his need to defeat Drizzt in battle? At her side, Wulfgar glowered ominously at the rough-hewn walls of the mines. The giant barbarian had not forgotten the assassin and what he had done to Regis and Drizzt, and had not forgiven, even through his torture at the hands of the demon Errtu.

Bruenor, after the initial shouting and waving of axes and oaths to slay the assassin where he stood, managed to calm down a bit and begin devising a plan to be rid of the dangerous man. He was furious, after all the man had done to his friends, but he knew the safest way to deal with the assassin was to act quickly, with great strength, and hope Entreri would be cowed by great numbers and unfamiliar territory. "I'll be sendin' a platoon to deal with him," he cautioned Wulfgar, who looked as though he was about to storm outside and take his warhammer to the assassin.

Drizzt smiled, relieved – the ranger wanted no part in the fighting that would ensue, though he would certainly help if needed. Wulfgar scowled, but Catti-brie cautioned him with a look – she wanted naught to do with the assassin if she could help it. They would not be going with the dwarven troops. Hopefully, Entreri would be cowed by the sheer numbers of the attack force, and leave. Good riddance, Catti-brie thought to herself.

* * *

Entreri could not find it within himself to be surprised when he found himself, quite suddenly, surrounded by burly, growling dwarven warriors, ominously hefting large axes with arrows nocked point-blank at his head. This was their territory, and he was an intruder – and a well-known one, at that. He stood calmly in the midst of them, giving nothing away, as their leader, one Bruenor Battlehammer, strode forth angrily.

"Begone from me home, assassin!" the dwarf barked, glowering as only a dwarf can glower. "Ye'll not be fightin' the elf again!"

Entreri stared steadily into the dwarf's face, unperturbed. "I have no wish to fight that one ever again."

"Then what're ye doin' in me mines!" Bruenor demanded, gripping his notched battle-axe tightly.

"I must speak with the ranger," was Entreri's steady reply.

"Get ye gone, yerself ain't worthy t' speak with that'n!"

Bruenor watched curiously as the assassin's face, stony and rigid up to this point, twisted with some motion the dwarf couldn't identify. If he hadn't known better, he'd have said it was worry – but that was preposterous. What could possibly worry the assassin enough to lose face amidst enemies?

"Please! I must speak with him!" The plea tore roughly and unexpectedly from the assassin's throat, startling both of them. Saying Entreri was not prone to beg was like saying Rumblebelly was not prone to missing meals – it was simply unthinkable. The dwarf began to wonder – and to worry – what it was that had the assassin so shook up.

Bruenor frowned thunderously, and hotly debated the matter with himself in his head, Entreri looking on with barely concealed anxiety.

"Fine," the dwarf finally huffed. "I'll be findin' the drow, an' ye'll be speakin' with him. But I'm warnin' ye now, assassin – any o' yer tricks, an' yer a dead man!"

Entreri nodded, seemingly unconcerned – but after that display a few minutes earlier, Bruenor had his doubts as to the truth of that expression. Bruenor huffed once more and, against his better judgment, stomped off to find Drizzt.

Bruenor found Drizzt not so far away, sitting in a patch of rare autumn sunlight on a snow-bare outcrop of rock – obviously waiting in case things went sour with the assassin. The drow looked upwards in surprise as the red-bearded dwarf stormed over, obviously in a fine temper.

"What is it, my friend?" he inquired curiously.

Bruenor huffed and muttered and grumbled to himself for a minute or two, too angry and confounded to know where to begin. Drizzt watched with something like vague amusement until his friend had calmed down enough to speak.

"It's the assassin," Bruenor finally managed to grunt. "He wishes t' speak with ye."

Drizzt began to protest, but Bruenor cut him off with a raised hand. "I know what ye're thinkin' elf – I'm thinkin' it too – but there somethin' different abou' him. Summat's got him all shook up. He _pleaded_ t' talk with ye, if'n ye'll believe it."

Drizzt stared at his dwarven friend in shock. After a few moments silence, he managed a strangled whisper; "Surely you jest!"

Bruenor shook his head grimly. "I'm thinkin' ye should talk with him," he admitted reluctantly.

Drizzt nodded his agreement, still stunned. Could Bruenor truly be speaking of Artemis Entreri, the assassin?

Surely not …


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Just a quick note - I have discovered that the later chapters that were saved to my computer (which were crappy) were not the same as the ones I uploaded (which were not nearly so crappy), so I'll probably only make superficial changes to most of them and upload them all at once. Cheerio, pips!

* * *

Entreri was at once relieved and apprehensive as he saw the slender silhouette of the drow ranger coming down the mountain's slope towards him. He kept his expression carefully schooled, all too aware of the dozens of dwarven archers just beyond his line of sight, ready to kill him should he make even a hint of a false move. So, he kept still, staring at the dark face concealed beneath the ranger's hood. All-too-familiar violet eyes glared back at him.

Drizzt finally halted several strides from where Entreri stood. The two glared at one another, neither making a move. After an uncomfortable pause, during which Entreri was certain he could hear bowstrings tightening all around him, Drizzt spoke; "What is it you want, assassin? I had hoped our dealings with one another were through." His dark face was stony, his displeasure clearly shown.

"Your assistance," was Entreri's calm reply.

Drizzt stared at him, barely able to conceal his shock. Entreri? Asking _him_ for _help_?

"Assistance with what?" the ranger asked warily, hands resting lightly on the hilts of his scimitars. "What could you want with me, Entreri?"

Entreri gritted his teeth. He really, truly _loathed_ doing this, asking his most hated enemy for _help_. But he had to – Aari's _life _depended on it.

"I am … searching, for someone, and I …" he struggled with the unfamiliar and unwelcome words; "require … assistance."

Drizzt scowled, disgusted. "I am not helping you with one of your murder missions, assassin," he spat, turning to leave.

"No!" Entreri barked, loosing his composure for a moment, startling Drizzt into turning back. He collected himself and repeated, more calmly; "No. It's not what you think."

"My … traveling companion has … vanished. Kidnapped by … one of my old enemies. I am … unable to locate him," Entreri managed to grate out. Gods, but this was difficult!

Drizzt raised a white eyebrow at the assassin. "You place value on the life of your companion?" he asked dubiously.

Entreri scowled, but could not refute the drow's logic, considering what he had been like only a few years ago. But that had changed – at least, for Aari, it had changed. And he would not leave here without help. But how could he convince the ranger of that? His word meant nothing to the drow.

Entreri let out a long, slow breath. "What can I do to convince you that I am in earnest?" he asked heavily of Drizzt.

Drizzt looked at him curiously and did not deign to reply. Was this truly Artemis Entreri, the cold-blooded assassin, that he was speaking with? The years had certainly left their mark, in more ways than one.

"Can your companion not take care of himself?" he inquired cautiously, testing the assassin.

Entreri glared at the drow with barely-concealed hatred as he spat, "He is but a child! Will you help me find him or not?"

Once again that day, Drizzt was shocked. Truly, Entreri had changed – but how? And more importantly – how much?

"Stay here," he commanded, and sped off towards the entrance to the dwarven mines.

* * *

Inside the mines, Drizzt related the entirety of his conversation with the assassin to Bruenor, Catti-brie, Wulfgar, and Regis, who had just awoken and was as dismayed as any of them that Entreri had returned to the dale. "He seems to be truly in earnest," the ranger added with a confused sigh as he finished.

His friends pondered the information for a small time. Catti-brie was the first to speak.

"I'm thinkin' we should help him," she slowly began; "But not t' trust him. We're comin' with ye, Drizzt, an' don't ye tell us not to!"

Drizzt grinned at his fierce, auburn-haired friend. "I wouldn't dream of it," he assured her. "I don't wish to journey with that one alone for any length of time."

"_I_ don't wish to journey with him at all," Wulfgar grumbled, still scowling at the thought. "But … you're right, Catti-brie. Anything that has Entreri that shaken up should concern us." He frowned, then added grudgingly, "I suppose."

Bruenor grunted in agreement as he hefted his axe. "Well, then, what're we waitin' fer? Get yer things! The sooner we're off, the sooner this'll be over with!"

As all four were in agreement with the dwarf in getting the whole thing over with as soon as possible, they were soon packed and ready for a journey. Regis surprised everyone by gathering his things, as well – the halfling was not known so much for his adventurous spirit as for his love of all things comfortable. When questioned, however, he replied; "I'm not going to be left out – not this time. I hate Entreri, and I won't leave my dearest friends alone with him!"

As none could refute that, no one resisted his coming, though Bruenor made sure to pack some extra food, grumbling that Rumblebelly would eat them out of provisions within a day.

* * *

The five found Entreri resting upon a rock nearby the spot Drizzt had left him. The assassin quickly stood upon seeing them approach, the image of readiness. Wulfgar glowered at the assassin, hefting his warhammer Aegis-Fang ominously. Entreri ignored the silent warning, seeming cool and completely in control. Catti-brie and Regis both eyed him in distrust – both had been captives to the man before, and neither were ready to travel readily with him, though they knew it must be done. They weren't about to risk a child's life on their suspicions – it _had_ been a few years, after all.

"Well?" Drizzt asked of Entreri as they approached. "Where do we begin?"

Silently, Entreri tossed a crumpled piece of paper to the drow, who caught it easily. "This came to me in Luskan," he explained. "A warning and a hint."

Drizzt unfolded the paper and scanned it, picking through the crabbed and ornate handwriting:

_Artemis Entreri. So long have I waited for this, this sweet revenge. Who could have thought it would come so easily? In the form of this broken child?_

_I see the worry twisting your face. How exquisitely pathetic – the great Artemis Entreri, fallen to this, coddling a helpless child. Come and find us – we'll gladly welcome you here. Seek us where winter ends, and autumn begins. Oh, and don't worry – we shan't kill the child. Not yet._

_After all, there are things so much worse than death._

_-R_

Drizzt read through once, and then again, before handing it to Catti-brie.

"So. It seems yer story's true," the young woman commented after reading the note. Bruenor, and then Wulfgar, read it through, Wulfgar's eyebrows rising steadily throughout before tossing it back to the assassin. Entreri nodded, almost imperceptibly, as he easily caught the note.

A stiff pause hung over the group for several moments, until Catti-brie finally shrugged and set out for Ten Towns, Drizzt, Bruenor, Wulfgar, and Regis at her heels. Entreri paused and straightened the pack about his shoulders before following.

"Just hang on, kid," he muttered under his breath. "I'm coming."

Drizzt's keen ears caught the oath, and once again, he wondered about Artemis Entreri.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, guys - my family is spread all over creation, and I've been visiting them. _All_ of them. Anyway, I'll get the rest of the chapters re-vamped as soon as I can, what with two, maybe three more chaptered fics _and_ my other home projects. It's an unfortunate tedency of mine to take on too many big projects at once. Bad me. Very, very bad me. Slap, slap.

Once again, much thanks to **Iceheart Firesoul **for all her help in beta-ing this fic. You _rock_!

* * *

Although they moved at a steady pace, it was nightfall by the time the grudging companions arrived at the outermost town of Ten Towns, Dougan's Hole. The six bunked down in the Green Dragon, the local inn, for the night, Bruenor paying for everyone but Entreri, insisting that the assassin would never be welcome to any coin of his. Entreri was not bothered, however, and produced enough coin to stay the night. Drizzt sighed at the hard-headedness of his dwarven friend, but made no other sign of protest.

Entreri remained silent throughout the entire meal, although it was uncommonly good for the dale, which suited his companions just fine. The ranger and Catti-brie shot curious glances his way every now and again, but that was all the outward interest they showed in him. When he was finished, the assassin didn't linger for the entertainment, but instead went straight upstairs to his room, shutting the door and bolting it firmly. The other five didn't make anything of it, recalling his secluded behavior as typical of Entreri.

Entreri lay back on the bed and sighed. Contrary to what the other companions might have thought, Entreri did not despise entertainment, though he did not enjoy it excessively. Fond, recent memories had come back to him upon entering the inn – memories he didn't care to dwell on in the presence of others. He was recalling the last time he had bunked down at an inn – Aari had been with him, then. The youngling had made quite a show, as he recalled …

_-Flashback-_

Entreri sighed in exasperation as the pair approached the brightly lit inn. This was the third attempt to bunk down in a week. "Just keep the damn mask _on_ this time, kid," he grumbled, giving his diminutive companion a stern glare.

"I _hate_ it," Aari retorted mulishly, chin stubbornly set. His cobalt-blue eyes sparked in his newly pale skin whilst he fiddled with his now-golden hair, and scowled. Even though he was wearing the mask of disguise, turning the young dark elf into a surface elf, Entreri had to admit that he still looked strange, with his violently blue eyes and shaggy hair cropped to just underneath his earlobes.

"Would you rather be tossed in a dungeon? Or chased away at swordpoint again?" Entreri growled, at the end of his rope as he recalled the last several encounters where Aari had refused to wear the mask. Those excursions had invariably ended with the two being run out of town with angry, violent villagers at their heels. They were _not_ events that Entreri wished to duplicate.

The fourteen-year-old drowling scowled as darkly as he could manage, but Entreri was relieved to note that the mask stayed on his face. For a change.

They entered a warmly lit main room, full of people out for a late-night drink, or just passing through town. The patrons were mostly humans and halflings, though there were a few elves here and there. Entreri sat down on a stool at the bar, Aari joining him, the young drow staring sullenly into space. Entreri easily ignored the sulking youngster, being used to such antics after nearly three years of traveling with Aari. Quite suddenly, the young drow straightened up and snapped his fingers, as if just realizing something.

"Aha! You're in a bad mood today?" he asked of the ex-assassin brightly, showing a sudden change in mood.

"How'd you guess?" Entreri replied sarcastically. The semi-retired assassin was wet, tired, hungry, and not at all in the mood for Aari's typical jesting. He was hoping that an openly-sarcastic retort would deter the child for the night.

"Well, I know just how to cure _that_," Aari went on, now beaming. So much for the sarcasm attempt.

"Hmph," Entreri grunted absently, knowing that Aari would happily wait the entire night for him to acknowledge the statement.

"You need . . . a pickle!" Aari proclaimed dramatically, grabbing said vegetable from a nearby open jar. The drow child brandished the dripping item at Entreri, who was now working hard to conceal an amused smile. The ex-assassin accepted the pickle gravely, somehow managing to keep a straight face. Aari had a strange fixation on pickles, and Entreri now came to expect from the drowling some far-fetched remedy that somehow involved pickles for every possible affliction.

The young elf talked all through their dinner, both with Entreri and the other guests. The inn's patrons were wary of the brooding, silent Entreri, but all took an immediate liking to the cheerful and chatty young elfling. Entreri was uneasy of all the attention, but stoically ignored it as Aari enjoyed himself.

Aari was such a chatterbox. He claimed he loved working in the wilds with Entreri, practically in solitude, but Entreri knew that every time they stopped for a while in a town, Aari had the time of his life. He was extremely social for a dark elf. Lately, they'd been stopping at towns and villages more and more frequently, but if Aari noticed this, he gave no sign, and Entreri certainly never brought it up.

Later on that night, as the two walked up to their separate rooms, Entreri halted just in front of Aari's door. He presented the young one with a long, heavy package. "Happy birthday," he said gruffly. He was really using the occasion as an excuse for his giving the youngling a gift, as Aari's real birthday had been two weeks ago. Entreri knew this because that night they had been chased out of a rather large and militant town. They had spent all night trying to throw their pursuers, and Aari nearly fell off a nearby cliff because he was too busy checking behind him. It had been a memorable day.

Curious, Aari ripped the package open and stared at the contents in awe. He was holding two slender sabers, with deadly keen edges. He looked up at Entreri, speechless for once in his life.

"I'll start teaching you how to use them tomorrow," Entreri continued, still gruff. "You're fair enough with a dirk, and you'll be infinitely more useful with proper weapons at your belt -"

He was cut off from saying any more as Aari seized him around the chest in a tight hug. "Oh, thank you so much!" the youngling exclaimed, delighted.

Entreri allowed a ghost of a grin to cross his features before becoming curt once more. "Bed. Now," he commanded, shrugging off Aari's hug and turning towards his own room.

Aari released the ex-assassin easily and grinned over his shoulder at him, giving Entreri a perturbed feeling that the youngling saw right through his brusque facade. Ignoring the nagging sensation, he entered his room and shut the door firmly behind him.

Once in the privacy of his room, however, he allowed the rest of the pleased smile to cross his face. He wasn't sure then who had received the better gift, Aari or himself. It was rare that Artemis Entreri ever allowed someone to break through his emotional barriers and become trustworthy. Many believed this to be impossible.

Well, if that was true, then Aari had accomplished the impossible.

_-End Flashback-_

Entreri sighed as he shifted on the mattress that had suddenly become rock-hard. He had to admit it - he missed the kid. He missed Aari's cheerful chatter, his oftentimes senseless jokes and pranks, and his fixation on pickles, of all things. Entreri reminded himself to pick up a jar of pickles before leaving - just in case. Before, they had been an annoyance, but now, they seemed to him to be a good-luck charm.

Entreri firmly shut his eyes and tried not to picture the kid - _his_ kid - in the hands of his unknown tormentors.

* * *

A/N: **Iceheart **pointed this out, and I find I must agree with her: Aari _has_ to be all right, because he's the only person who's given Entreri a hug - and lived!

And thankies to **The-Holy-Deciple-of-Muse**, **Kyn**, and **Victoria Wolf **(a reader of the original) for reviewing! And, **Kyn**, I don't, in fact, have seventy-something reviews for the first two chapters - those are left over from the first "Broken", as I don't feel like deleting them.

Review! Prettypretty please with a pickle on top!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Well, here we are - the belated (but much celebrated) update of Broken! Hurray!

What with my grandfather dying over the summer, and the start of school once again (including one AP course, one college course, and one Honors course in a grade above mine), I have not had time to write _squat_, not even something I'm in the middle of re-vamping. Now that I finally have a free moment, I am updating! I just did a long essay about British and Spanish American colonies, my shoulders ache and my eyes are strained, but I am updating! All hail! (And whoever it was that told me my junior year would be easier than last year deserves to go to hell.) Anyway ... what with, what, six? Yeah, five or six other stories clamouring at the back of my head (and in my inbox), I can't guarantee when the next update will be, though I'll try to have it up as soon as possible. Oh, and most of those 87 or something reviews **((points))** are from forever ago when I first started posting Broken, so don't go yelling at me. Tootles!

* * *

The following morning dawned misty and bright as the sun rose over the dale. The reluctant companions, early risers all, save for Regis, were steadily working their way through a sizeable breakfast that, by the looks of the serving maids, they were fully expected to finish. Entreri was anxious to be on the way once more, but consented to wait until they had all eaten their fill – after all, who knew when they would get such a filling meal again? 

A gust of cold autumn air blew through the warm common area as a snow-covered man came into the inn, hurriedly shutting the door and rubbing his hands together in the heat of the indoors. Most of the inn's patrons grumbled at the intrusion of cold air before turning back to their meals – the companions, after a moment's pause, did likewise, keeping a discreet eye on the stranger just in case.

The man seemed to hesitate, scanning the room as if in search of someone. He frowned as his gaze rested upon Entreri, as though consulting a verbal description of some kind, before making his careful way through the crowd of tables, chairs, and early-risers towards the group of travelers.

The companions eyed him warily as he reached them and asked of the assassin; "Are you Artemis Entreri?"

Entreri seemed to consider him for a moment before replying; "I am."

The man thrust a letter, wrapped in leather against the elements, towards the assassin, who stiffened at the sudden movement. "This is for you," he explained quickly. "I don't know who sent it, I'm just a Luskan messenger." With that said, he turned abruptly and made his way to the door once more, leaving as quickly as he'd come.

Entreri watched him leave, eyes narrowing slightly, before turning his attention to the letter – yet another note, on folded, slightly yellowing parchment. Drizzt and his friends watched, unable to disguise their curiosity, as the blood drained quickly from the assassin's face, leaving him pale and drawn. After a moment, scanning the paper with sharp eyes, he handed the parchment silently to Catti-brie, who through no especial planning of her own was seated nearest him.

Catti-brie read through the cramped and spiky handwriting quickly, this time with Wulfgar and Drizzt peering interestedly over her shoulder. Bruenor huffed loudly and returned to his ale in blatant disinterest, Regis not having looked up from his meal since its arrival.

_My, Artemis, but you are slow. Have you yet considered that, with every hour you delay, the child screams louder? Come now, and solve our riddle – we're really not that far away. Here's another hint: we breathe but do not live, we face death but cannot die._

_Shall I tell you what the child screams?_

_He calls for you, Artemis. Will you let him down?_

_-R_

The three stared at the letter silently, at a momentary loss for words. The silence was broken, surprisingly, by Bruenor, who gave yet another 'harrumph' over his breakfast and demanded, "What's that foul smell? It had best not be the meal!"

The companions frowned, puzzled, as they sniffed the air. Entreri startled them by suddenly snatching the letter from Catti-brie's hands and sniffing it, wrinkling his nose in blatant disgust. "Death," he said simply. "Rot, and decay."

Drizzt took the paper and sniffed delicately, immediately assaulted by the repugnant odor the parchment was soaked in. "Yes," he agreed, face twisting in revulsion, "but something else … sickly sweet."

Wulfgar leaned over to sniff it, and immediately gagged. "Gods …" he managed in a strangled voice – the smell reminded him of his imprisonment with Errtu, though with a significant lack of brimstone. He handed it to Regis, who immediately clapped a hand over his sensitive halfling nose. "I can'd place id," he said through his improvised nose-block, glaring at Wulfgar for momentarily ruining his appetite.

The halfling passed the note back to Drizzt, who handed it to Entreri, as it was, after all, addressed to him.

"Well," Catti-brie said after a moment of tense, puzzled silence. "It seems t' me that we're chasin' after a riddler, an' the assassin holds the keys. '_Where winter ends and fall begins'_ … must be somewhere south o' the dale, but … what land could be called spring, let alone fall?"

Entreri glanced upwards for the first time since receiving the letter and considered. "Probably just past Silverymoon," he finally replied. "But that still leaves a broad stretch of land …"

"No," countered the halfling, who found himself in his element – that of riddles, and the solving of them. "'Where winter _ends_ and fall _begins'_, not in between the two. So … nearby Luskan, perhaps?"

Bruenor snapped his fingers, triumphant. "I've got it!" he exclaimed, startling his companions, who turned to look at him curiously. "Just afore the Ne'erwinter woods!"

Regis slapped an incredulous hand to his forehead. "Of course!" he agreed. "Why didn't we think of it before? That is indeed where the northern winter ends!"

"Now we know _where_ they are," Entreri affirmed grimly. "But what of the other half of the riddle? My – _our_ foes seem dangerous: '_We breathe but do not live, we face death but cannot die_'. What could _that_ mean?"

"Well," Catti-brie suggested, now fully into the spirit of the search, regardless of its origins; "this 'R' seems t'be after revenge of some kind against ye, Entreri – not that that surprises me. But … have ye ever faced off against summat that was mighty difficult t' kill? Needed summat special t' kill it, perhaps, like a werebeast?"

Entreri shook his head, frowning. "None that are in any condition to hound me now," he informed her bluntly. "Besides, werebeasts can be hurt, and killed – this riddle makes it seem as though they are immortal …" The assassin trailed off in thought. Around him, the companions wracked their brains for likely immortal races.

Drizzt looked up suddenly. "Entreri," he began cautiously. The man looked up. Drizzt continued, dismay growing across his face; "Have you ever faced off against a _vampire_?"

Entreri blanched, aghast. "I don't believe it," he said in a strangled whisper, more to himself than anyone else. "_Rauven_!"

"You know the ringleader, then?" Wulfgar demanded of him curtly, the first words he'd spoken to the assassin since their journey had begun.

Entreri scowled – whether at himself or some distant memory, they couldn't tell. "Lord Thybalt Rauven Dracula, lord of the Byrdren vampire clan. I … made a fool of him, once, many years ago. So many years ago, I'd nearly forgotten. It didn't seem such a major matter at the time." He shook his head, perturbed. "Gods … vampires …" he muttered to himself.

Drizzt, however, frowned, puzzled. "Where would vampires hole up near the Neverwinter woods?" he queried. "Aren't they elven lands?" He couldn't imagine elves tolerating such abominations as vampires to dwell anywhere near their forested homes.

Regis cleared his throat, gaining the companions' attention. "What about the Crags?" he suggested. "Down the River Mirabar? They have no end of caves and hidden tunnels, and go east until Lurkwood."

Catti-brie could not resist a small chuckle at the stunned expression on Entreri's face. "It seems ye've found the answer, Regis," she commented to her friend, who beamed at her praise.

"Then we're off to Luskan!" Drizzt affirmed, feeling a measure of satisfaction from the speed at which the search was progressing. He didn't care for Entreri, but the thought of a young child in the hands of vampires – creatures which excelled in the art of torture, who viewed the rape of innocents as entertainment – was quite enough to spur the ranger to complete the quest as soon as possible, for the sake of the child, if not Entreri.

Bruenor frowned skeptically at his friends and the assassin. "Might this be seemin' a mite too easy t' any of ye?" he asked, his nerves prickling with the warning sensation of a trap.

Entreri nodded, almost absently. "Yes," he agreed, "but what choice have we?" The companions had no answer for him, though he expected none.

"We should nevertheless be on our guard," Drizzt advised his friends, knowing the assassin at least needed none of his warnings.

"Why?" Regis inquired, reluctant to succumb to midnight watches in the chill night air. "Rauven has made it clear that he wants Entreri to follow."

"Yes, but not with assistance," Drizzt retorted sternly. "The vampire obviously knows our whereabouts – he may try to eradicate our aid. We must all of us be on alert." He stared pointedly at Regis, who widened his eyes innocently.

Wulfgar chuckled. "Be wary, little one," he advised his halfling friend. "Fiends often take the hindmost."

Regis scowled at his barbarian friend, hardly comforted.

* * *

A/N: Much thanks to **Lunatic Pandoral**, **Silver Wolf Pups**, **Matt** (good God, you kept track? Also, I have a cousin named Matt ...), **Lessiehanamoray**, **The-Holy-Deciple-of-Muse**, **Assassin** (I think that's one of the most flattering things that's ever been said to me!), **Midnightspiral87**, **FantasyFreak4Life**, and of course, my amazing and much-loved beta, **Iceheart Firesoul**. Until next time, kids! 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: All right, all right! I lied, okay? But, seriously, I really thought I'd be able to get chapters out much faster than this - but the usual culprits (aka, school, homework, seperate projects, family issues) have been bombarding me without ceasing. It's quite frustrating, actually.

Anyway, behold! THE LONGEST CHAPTER IN BROKEN YET! _Eight pages_, people, chock-full of Entreri-Aari-flashback goodness! And, the long-awaited origins of Entreri and Aari's friendship - revealed! Yes, I'm excited, why do you ask?

Much thanks, yet again, to my wonderfullest (I know that's not a word) beta, **Iceheart Firesoul**, and everyone else whose kind words have helped this story continue. Love you all:)

Reviews will be replied to at the bottom.

* * *

Now that their direction was decided, the companions wasted no time in making their way towards Luskan. After a few arguments, mostly with Entreri, they joined a merchant caravan headed towards the city, in the hopes that not only would the caravan make the journey safer, but that the numbers would hide the fact that Entreri had obtained help in his search for his charge. 

The merchants, always worried about raiders as they were, were more than happy to welcome such names as Bruenor Battlehammer and Drizzt Do'Urden. After a brief and guarded discussion explaining their need for haste, the leaders agreed to move as fast as possible. The companions were assured that they would arrive at Luskan within a week's time, if not sooner – remarkable time for a caravan in the dale. It was the fastest they could manage, and the companions appreciated their willingness, though Entreri's ever-present scowl grew deeper with every time they were forced to halt and rest for the night. Drizzt and the others could easily tell that the assassin did not think that their pace was fast enough.

Over the course of the days, Regis found himself occasionally riding his small mountain pony alongside of Entreri in the long, winding line of the caravan. Once, he glanced side-long at his one-time tormentor; the man seemed preoccupied, a state Regis had seldom before known him to inhabit. The halfling shook his head in silent disbelief. He simply found it impossible to believe that Entreri, the dark figure of some of his worst nightmares, could have changed so much – _so much_ – in only six years. The grim, dark man had given no indication otherwise thus far, however, and so Regis wisely kept his mouth shut – he knew the others shared his apprehensions.

The silence between the two began to grow stifling, though Regis seemed to be the only one at all uneasy with his surroundings. Finally, in a last-ditch attempt to fill the oppressive silence, he pursed his lips and began to whistle, quietly, a cheery tune he had picked up from the dwarves. He was quickly silenced, however, by a stony glare from Entreri, who finally seemed to acknowledge his presence if only to give voice to his annoyance. Regis huffed under his breath, muttering, "No appreciation for good music," though he had truly expected nothing less from the sullen assassin. He reluctantly began to wrestle his stubborn pony into a trot, carefully weaving around Entreri and the nearest wagon in an effort to catch up with some of his friends.

Entreri ignored both the mutterings and the departure of the small halfling, too lost in his churning thoughts and memories to truly take note of his surroundings. On his own, he would have never allowed himself to become so wrapped up in his own thoughts, but in the midst of a well-guarded caravan, he allowed himself to drift, eventually recalling the first day he had met the child he was searching so urgently for now …

_-Flashback-_

Entreri had been wandering, in and out of towns and wilderness alike, for many days, lost not in his footsteps, but in his mind. The assassin … was he really an assassin anymore? So much of Entreri's life was uncertain now … he loathed it, but could find no way to halt it, could find no way to bring back the certainty of his past.

He was shrouded in his confused and frustrated thoughts, but not so veiled that he failed to notice the distant sounds of shouting, loud and angry, through the muffled silence of the wood. Eager for any distraction from his current state of mind, he quickly pin-pointed the direction the noises were coming from and set off towards it, taking care to remain deep in the woodland shadows – he was not yet so foolhardy as to race off towards any noise at all without any notion as to what he was walking into.

As he neared the source of the noise, the voices raised and Entreri recognized them as a sizeable group of men, harsh of voice and tongue. Silently, he approached a small glade, and as it came into view he realized that he was looking upon a company of raiders, not uncommon in those parts. They were arguing among one another, a few occasionally attempting to quiet the rest as voices rose higher and higher. After watching and listening carefully for a moment or two, Entreri realized that, every so often, another, unseen person would cry out wordlessly, after which a raider would invariably chuck something heavy towards the direction of the yell.

Curious, Entreri crept noiselessly around the perimeter of the camp, invisible within the shadows of the many trees. As he neared the rear of the place, he found the source of the wordless yelling, and blanched, his dark eyes widening in utter surprise.

Tied securely to a nearby stake, a young drow child hung, surrounded by stones, several pots, and other heavy objects thrown by his captors that had missed their mark. Heavy bruises, a strange purple just beginning to show up on his dark skin, testified to those that had flown true. The drowling was young even for his race, probably only about ten or so – his face was still rounded with vestiges of baby fat, though he was painfully thin. His clothes, cut of common cloth, were worn and dirtied, although Entreri wasn't sure where he had obtained them. One of the men had gagged the youngster, but the drowling was hard at work stubbornly chewing through the dirty cloth.

Although the majority of the men were crowded around a central fire-pit, on the other end of the camp, a few still walked through the rest of the small hollow. Every time one passed close by the drow the youngling flinched violently away from them, a look of stark terror crossing his face as he cringed away from the man reaching out to teasingly yank his shaggy, uncut white mop. Seeing such a look on the face of one so young, no matter the race, made Entreri's stomach turn uncomfortably.

What on Faerûn was a drow as young as this doing out on the surface, so far from any of his race? Even Eilistraee's rebels – a band of drow, religious rogues that Entreri had heard tell of – were far, far away from here. If the drow had been older, Entreri wouldn't have given his imprisonment a second thought, save for brief wonder at how the band of raiders had gotten so incredibly lucky as to catch him, assuming that he was paying for earlier deeds. But … surely, _surely_ one this young couldn't have done anything to these men, even if he'd wanted to? And that look on the child's face … With these thoughts preying insistently upon his mind, Entreri's inner code of morals surfaced.

Contrary to popular belief – that is, the belief of almost everyone who knew him – Entreri did, in fact, have a code of morals that he adhered to, although, before his encounters with the ranger Drizzt Do'Urden, this code had been strict and harsh – his victims received only what they deserved, end of story. Now … now, they were undergoing a few changes, adding to the overall confusion of Entreri's inner self.

Even without these uncertainties, however, his code firmly ascertained that this young one had not done anything to deserve this treatment. And whatever had warranted that look of pure, instinctual terror … his mind turned stubbornly away from that train of thought. It made him sick. Anyone with any semblance of morals at all would agree that such abuse of a young one was entirely corrupt.

He circled about the camp once more, eyes glimmering dangerously as he plotted his approach, mentally assuring himself that he was not attempting any sort of foolhardy rescue, merely inquiring as to the raiders' business, perhaps partake of their meal that was currently roasting on the fire-pit. And if they just so happened to be unfriendly … and if he just so happened to disagree with a few of their tactics … if they just so happened to attack … well, that was their problem, wasn't it?

"Hail!" he called out, stepping into full view, hands raised in an open gesture of friendliness. The raiders sprang instantly to their feet at the sudden sight of the intruder, weapons drawn in nary a trice. Entreri smiled gamely, his stance relaxed. "I merely wish to inquire as to your business," he explained calmly.

One of the raiders stepped forwards – the leader, Entreri surmised. "Oh, aye," he agreed, a wry look twisting his face. "An' I'm the Queen o' Calimport. Drop yer weapons, or we'll be sadly forced t' kill ye."

Entreri made no move towards his weapons, the disarming smile remaining upon his face. "Well, isn't that unfortunate? You see, I won't drop my weapons for them to be snatched by brutes such as yourselves, and if you tried to kill me, I'd be forced to kill all of you in order to prevent that. And then there would be such a dreadful mess."

At those words, the raiders moved forwards, encircling the assassin, weapons raised and ready. The leader responded grimly, "I'd rethink yer decision, friend."

The smile dropped like a stone from Entreri's face as he scowled threateningly at the man. "No friend of yours, bastard."

The leader fell back as the others leapt forwards, two leading from either side. Catching both in the corners of his eyes, Entreri grinned morbidly as his sword and dagger appeared in his hands, as if by magic, before whirling to face his adversaries. Time to play.

The ensuing battle may have seemed chaotic to the raiders, taken by surprise by their demonic foe, but to Entreri it was smooth motion, responding to an inaudible tempo, a definite rhythm to which the assassin danced. In battle was the only time now that Entreri was truly at peace, putting out of his mind his encounters with Drizzt Do'Urden and the rest of the drow race, encounters which had left his life in turmoil – leaving gaping holes in solid logic, placing doubts where once there was certainty, leaving apathy where there was once passion and excitement.

The raiders were experienced fighters, this much was true – but they were unused to working in concert about so small a target. Their weapons were varied, from battle-axes to morning-stars to steel or iron swords, and the differences only served to hinder them in their attack. In the crucial split seconds in which they fumbled, adjusting to the differences in the fighting, Entreri struck, whirling and tumbling and dodging like a mad sprite. The men nearest him didn't have time to cry out before he cut them down, spinning in a deadly circle, dagger leading sword, sword leading dagger, leaving men gawking at missing limbs or slit bellies, some slumping to the ground with an ear-to-ear grin sliced through their throats.

In the back of his mind, Entreri dimly realized that the drowling had finally chewed through his gag, and was shouting. Slowly, what the young one was crying out began to register – "…look out, above you, _look out_, _LOOK OUT_!"

Entreri immediately whirled and dived to the side just in time to dodge a large man, armed with two large daggers, hurtling just above where he had been standing a few moments ago. Instead of colliding with the assassin, as was no doubt his intention, the raider clothes-lined – and accidentally stabbed – the few bandits not quick enough to get out of his way.

Entreri leapt to his feet and quickly stabbed the sentry with his sword, followed by a quick slice of the throat with his dagger, just in case. The dagger complained in his mind, wanting more than the quick dashes of energy it had gleaned from Entreri's strike-and-flight strategy, but the assassin quashed its "voice", knowing he didn't need life-force from any of them, and he had never been known to take more than was needed.

After only a few minutes, the assassin's gruesome play was done. He stood in the midst of the corpse-littered clearing, tense, remaining on the edge of readiness in case some other trap sprang into being.

The sudden silence that had filled the glade was broken, surprisingly, by the young drowling, whom Entreri had nearly forgotten in the welcome heat of the battle. "Great gods," the youngling said in a slightly cracked voice, staring about the clearing. His young face was slightly nauseated, but more awe than sickness pervaded his dark features. He coughed once, twice, before glancing towards Entreri. "Uh … sir? Could you untie me? Please?"

Entreri eyed the drowling suspiciously. He knew far too well the ways of the cunning, merciless dark elves. What was this youngling doing about on the surface, with such command of the common tongue? – for he spoke without accent or formality.

The drow cleared his throat. "Ah, sir? Not to disturb you … or anything … but this is really … _really_ uncomfortable."

A child could not present much of a problem, Entreri decided with a sigh, and there was no gain in forking over a youngling to bandits for any drow. He walked over and, with two swift strokes of his dagger, cut through the ropes binding the child.

The drowling yelped, staggering slightly as he swayed, then leaned against the pole, rubbing his wrists and arms furiously to restore circulation. "Thank you!" he gasped gratefully, managing to send a bright smile in Entreri's direction before turning and rummaging through the raiders' stores. He uncovered a canteen, and took several long, thirsty gulps, water leaking from his mouth to run down his chin before he finished, gasping as he came up for air. He began sorting once again through the supplies until emerging triumphantly with a small quiver of arrows and a bow, smaller than was usual to fit his slight frame. Entreri watched him for a minute, puzzled but disinterested, before turning and beginning to walk away.

"Oy! Wait up!" the drowling cried, immediately trotting after him. Entreri turned to stare at the child. Still shaking out his stiff arms, the young drow asked bluntly, "Could you teach me to do that?"

Entreri frowned, confused. "Do what, exactly?" he replied curtly, annoyed.

"Fight. Like you did," the drowling clarified, gesturing at the clearing. "Could you teach me? Please?"

Entreri stared at the scrawny youngster. "How … how old are you, kid?" he finally asked incredulously.

"Eleven. Twelve in eight months. Sir." The child gave him another bright grin, startlingly white in his black face. Entreri noted with some interest that his eyes, shining in the midst of his face, were a vibrant cobalt blue.

"Just … go home and play with your parents or someone, kid," he grated out in exasperation, beginning to turn away once more.

"Don't have any."

The assassin stopped, then slowly turned around. "What?"

"I don't have any parents. Or a family, anymore. Got nobody, far as anybody's concerned." The child's face was still matter-of-fact, hopefully staring up into his own.

Entreri stared at him. The youngling repeated his plea. "Please, couldn't you teach me how to do that?"

"No," Entreri bit out shortly, and with that, he wheeled about and strode off into the woods.

Once a fair distance away from the clearing, the assassin shook his head. That was the longest conversation he'd had in quite some time that hadn't ended with his sword in someone's chest. He'd been surprised at how nice it was to speak aloud, and have another voice answer him back. Frowning, he pondered once again how the drow child had come to be on the surface, speaking the common tongue – occurrences such as that did not happen every day.

Distracted as he was, Entreri didn't notice that he had a follower until just a moment before the young drowling appeared before him, seemingly out of nowhere. The youngling's sudden appearance gave the man a nasty shock, but he concealed it well as he glared at the child, who was grinning brightly at him.

"See?" the young drow said proudly. "I'm quiet, and real fast."

Entreri blinked, before letting out a slight huff and brushing past him. He was no little bit dismayed when the child was not deterred, but instead trotted after him, chattering all the while. "I think I'd like to stay with you. I've been on my own for a while, and I can't defend myself too good … you might've noticed that, actually, but I can hunt real good, and be really fast and quiet when I concentrate …"

Entreri halted abruptly, causing the child, who was following closely at his heels, to bump into him, cutting short his stream of babble. The assassin whirled around and treated the youngster to his iciest glare. "What on Faerûn makes you think that I'll let you stay with me?" he demanded sharply, his patience, little though it was, snapping.

The youngling, however, was completely unperturbed, and immediately began listing reasons, ticking them off on slender black fingers as he went: "First of all, I'll follow you whether you want me to or not. Like I said, I'm fast and quiet – I can keep up with you, easy. I can hunt, and cook edible things, and I'm a decent bowman – I've been working on it. And, I'll provide you with the pleasure of my company!"

Entreri gave a short, unhappy sigh, glare fading slightly as he regarded the resolute youngling with an air of puzzled uncertainty. As if sensing that the assassin's resolve was weakening, the child pleaded once more; "Come on, _please_, sir! All I want to do is learn how to fight – _really_ fight, like you do! The sooner you train me, the sooner I'll leave you alone!"

Entreri paused and surveyed the drow child standing before him. Though still very young, especially for an elf, he appeared trainable; his short limbs, though skinny, showed promise of wiry strength and grace. This one would make a fine fighter, if trained correctly. _And_, a small voice within his mind added, _a bit of company while traveling would be a fine thing indeed._ The assassin, irritated, shoved the voice firmly into the back of his mind, all the while resigning himself to what now seemed unavoidable.

"All right, fine," he sighed finally, grudgingly giving way to the youngster's pleas and his own confused thoughts. "You can stay with me a little while."

The drowling gave a brief shout of triumph, practically dancing about with glee. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! My name's Aari, what's yours?"

"Entreri. Artemis Entreri."

"Art," the child – Aari – stated with a firm sense of finality. "Nice to meet you, Art!"

"What? Don't call me that!" Entreri snapped, glare returned full force. Aari only laughed at the assassin's stern face, however, brilliant blue eyes sparkling gaily.

Entreri huffed and shook his head, before turning towards the woods once more. "Come on, kid – and don't call me Art!" he commanded, looking back over his shoulder.

With that, the unlikely pair strode off into the woods.

_-End Flashback-_

Entreri was jarred from his brief reverie by Catti-brie, who had ridden up beside him and was asking him something. "What?" he asked distractedly, his thoughts still many miles away.

"I said, how old be the child?" the flame-haired woman repeated, slightly peeved at being ignored. The question of how Entreri had come to be traveling with a youngster of any age had been preying on her since the journey's start, but only now had she worked up the nerve to question her former captor.

Entreri rode on in silence a few moments before replying: "Fourteen, nearing fifteen."

Catti-brie raised her eyebrow. "Hardly a child anymore, assassin," she commented – indeed, Wulfgar's people considered their children grown warriors at that very age, if not sooner, and dwarven children were taught their parents' work at the earliest possible age.

Entreri, however, never even glanced at her skeptical tone. "For one of the elven races, he is indeed quite young."

Catti-brie stared, momentarily speechless. "An … an _elf_?" she finally managed incredulously. "What sort o' elf would wish to travel with yerself?"

Now Entreri did turn to face her, a wry, amused smile upon his face at her confusion. "A dark one," he stated calmly, before prodding his horse into a trot and moving farther up along the line.

Catti-brie gaped after him. A dark elf, a child no less, on the surface! And traveling with the assassin? She could scarce believe her ears. Why had Entreri not said so in the first place? And, even more puzzling … why had he told her now?

She shook her head, now more confused than ever. The tangled mystery that was Artemis Entreri seemed to be getting stranger by the day. She was still mulling bemusedly over these thoughts when, on the following day, the caravan pulled triumphantly into Luskan.

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A/N: Now, _that_ should keep all of you occupied for a bit! (I hope ...) Anyways, onward to the review replies! (Because this time, I have the time to do them!) 

**Surreptitious Chi X:** You really think so? Thank you so much! **((beams happily))** I really try hard to keep to the voices of the "world" I'm working in - I mean, Entreri wouldn't think in modern slang, would he? I'm really honored that you think I'm that good - I'm not as good as Salvatore with fight scenes, however, so I don't even _try_ to emulate his detail. Hope you had a good read:)

**TheCheapTickets:** Yay! Another Aari fan! (_Pickles ..._) And - right on time - the past of Entreri and Aari! I'm glad you think I got Drizzt right, too - I can't seem to get into his head as easily as I can the others'. **((glares at him))** And, thank you so much for noticing that I kept with the geography! It makes me so happy! (In my FR books, there are maps. I use them.) Oh, and this all starts a bit after the end of the "Legacy" quartet - hence, heavily AU. Glad you like my "new" Entreri - honestly, I think he's got the potential to be like this even in the canon.

**MidnightSpiral87:** Well, this one was much longer, so I hope it makes you happy! And, with a bit of luck, the next chapter will be out soon! (Soon-ish, anyways ...)

**Shadir:** I love that you love the story:) Also, I don't really follow a specific schedule of up-dating - I'm trying to get these out as fast as I can to spare all you guys the agony of suspense, but life oftentimes conspires against this goal.

Until next time! (_You will review ... you will review ... you will review ..._)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Lo and behold - another chapter! Relatively on-time! (For me, anyways.) I feel a certain sense of pride in myself ...

For those of you who read the original "Broken", I hope you like the changes I made in this chapter - I know I do! A big shout-out must go to **Iceheart Firesoul**, who is currently thrilled because she could find no spelling or grammar mistakes! **((beams))**

My lovely reviewers will be replied to at the bottom. (Warning - there are a _lot._)

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The companions' stop at Luskan was going to be brief, much to the relief of Entreri – they planned only to stop to re-supply, and buy fresh horses – the ones they had been using up to that point would be returned to the dwarves by the merchant caravan. The five wisely decided to use the time they were left with to plan ahead for their looming confrontation with what seemed to be an entire clan of vampires – an unsavory conflict for most anyone to contemplate. Entreri, using his familiarity with the powerful street figures of Luskan as leverage, managed to procure, at a reasonable price, several maps covering the area about Blackford Road and the Crags. Though battered and worn, the maps were impressively thorough, considering that the bulk of the Crags were unexplored by all save orcs and goblins.

Drizzt was elected to bargain for goods with a local grocer, on the premise that his looks might unnerve the merchant enough to perhaps lower the price even more than he might normally. The ranger vainly protested this use of his dark heritage, but was unable to sway his growling and stubborn dwarven friend, who wished to conserve as much money as possible. The familiar and friendly argument, surprisingly, brought a smile to Wulfgar's face as he watched the ranger laughingly being poked and prodded down the path Bruenor had firmly set. Catti-brie, standing nearby, noticed, and was surprised to realize that perhaps this unexpected journey was helping Wulfgar more than anything they had done since his imprisonment. At any rate, she was relieved to see a smile on the barbarian's face, for she had been worried that his face would soon freeze in a disgruntled scowl.

As this exchange continued, Entreri wandered a bit away from his companions – he still found it difficult to think of them as such – looking through different stalls and vendors, searching for nothing in particular until he reached one particular booth. When he finally returned to the rest of the group, who were just closing their bargain with the shopkeeper – who did indeed look intimidated by Drizzt's unusual appearance, despite the small smile on the ranger's face – he bore in his hands a small jar filled with, of all things, pickles. The assassin coolly ignored the inquiring looks of his reluctant companions and tucked the jar into a small side-pocket of his traveling pack, in which resided a few coins and valuables.

Drizzt eyed the former assassin with undisguised interest a few moments longer than the rest as the others set off gamely to find a decent horse trader, Bruenor clapping him heartily on the back in admiration of his bargaining. Entreri, with almost every action he took, continued to affirm the drow's suspicions that he was not the assassin Drizzt had once thought he'd known. The ranger's face took on a troubled cast as he receded into his own thoughts.

By the time the companions had gathered all the necessary supplies and directions that they required, the sun had long since sunk beneath the horizon. Entreri wished to immediately press on, regardless of the hour, but Drizzt, surprisingly, was the one who held him back, reminding him that their adversaries were creatures, hunters, of the night, and would hold a great advantage over them if they set off during the hours of darkness. Reluctantly, Entreri found himself forced to agree with his former enemy's logic. Hunting a group of vampires in the middle of the night in unknown territory was not the most brilliant of ideas.

Of course, this forced decision left them with the dilemma of finding a place to stay for the night. They were none too sure about where exactly the town stood on the issue of Drizzt's heritage, and none of them, save for Entreri, who had not been there, had forgotten the last time Wulfgar had been to Luskan. While Wulfgar was now older and wiser, there was really no telling what could happen in a crowded bar, especially with the dark cloud that seemed to follow the barbarian everywhere these days.

However, this task proved easier than any of them might have initially expected, for it seemed as though Drizzt's fame as a ranger of Ten Towns had spread further than any suspected. The innkeeper of "The Dancing Yeti" was overjoyed to welcome the famous ranger and dwarven king to his establishment, and treated them all to some of his best beer for half-price.

Entreri supposed that the inn was pleasant enough, despite its rather unfortunate name, but his restlessness prevented him from really appreciating that fact. Now more than ever, he wanted to be moving onward, so close was he to finding his lost charge. It felt as though the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels, demanding that he move, run, it mattered not, so long as he did _something_ to alleviate this nervous tension.

He tried to ignore this sensation, seating himself in a far corner from whence he could observe all his surroundings and still remain aloof. He noted the presence of his traveling companions, sitting in a close-knit group several tables away. The hardy dwarf was regaling a few nearby patrons with some tale of derring-do – Entreri watched dispassionately as the audience periodically gasped and applauded, absent-mindedly drumming a restless beat into the wooden table with his gloved fingers. The halfling and the human girl seemed to be enjoying the story, grinning and chipping in with pointers or objections of their own as the tale progressed. Drizzt merely toyed with his drink, smiling faintly at Bruenor once in a while as the dwarf emphasized some point or another with wide, frantic gestures, occasionally glancing up to his barbarian companion to voice some opinion or other, drawing rare smiles to the overcast man's face.

Entreri let out a short sigh as he shifted in his wooden chair, unable to still himself for more than a moment before beginning to fidget once more. "Enough," he muttered after another minute or two of this, finally admitting defeat. He rose to his feet and, cutting a quick line through the crowded main room of the inn, stepped out onto the streets of Luskan.

The streets were not nearly as busy as they had been mere hours ago – the sun had set long since, and the streetlamps seemed to create more shadows than they managed to dispel. The night belonged to the thieves and rogues of the city, and it took little effort for Entreri to manage to blend with the darkened streets and alleyways – he was still an assassin, after all, semi-retired or no.

He wandered for a good amount of time, allowing his feet to carry him where they would, avoiding those crowds of people still outside, mostly drunks and petty thieves. After a while, he looked upwards only to find himself in a small, dark alleyway that came to an abrupt end ten feet in front of his face. There were no beggars or purse-lifters frequenting the cramped corridor – it was empty save for Entreri, and a few broken crates tossed there by some negligent street-cleaner.

He stood there for well over a minute, staring pensively at the blank wall as though it could divulge to him all the secrets of the world, including those of his immortal enemies. He missed Aari more than he cared to admit – every time he turned his head, or rounded a street corner, he expected to see the errant youngling, grinning foolishly at something or other; and every time he encountered nothing but air. This nagging sensation was slowly driving him crazy, and only served to sharply jab at the leaden, sickening weight of worry that seemed to have settled permanently in his stomach.

Something sped, whistling, past his right ear; he barely registered it, his body already having lunged to one side, his subconscious having picked up what his waking mind had not. Lightning-fast, he halted his dodge no more than a few steps in, whirling about, sword and dagger drawn, towards the mouth of the alley, confronting – _nothing_.

Startled, he paused no more than a split-second before racing to the empty alley mouth, eyes scanning both directions as he stood, on the verge of battle-readiness, every sense alive and tingling. And yet, he could divine nothing – it seemed as though his unseen attacker had vanished without a trace. On a sudden thought, he adjusted his eyesight to see within the infrared spectrum – but the only lingering vestiges of body heat were his own.

Biting back a frustrated curse, Entreri considered giving chase regardless; but any and all thoughts of that sort were arrested when he glanced backwards down the alley once more and saw what had been thrown – a slender dagger, buried hilt-deep in the plaster-and-wood wall. Wrapped about its handle was a crumpled piece of paper. Frowning, Entreri strode to the rear of the alley and, grasping the offending dagger firmly in his hand, pulled it out of the wall with one swift yank. The weapon was simple, without ornamentation; but the moonlight glinted off the cold, cruel edges of the blade, leaving Entreri with no doubts that an attempt upon his life had just been made.

The assassin's nose twitched – and, suddenly, he became aware of a faint, foul scent wafting upwards through the cool night air; vaguely sweet, in a stomach-twisting way. His own stomach clenched painfully as he hurriedly untied the scrap of parchment from the dagger's hilt and, tucking the weapon into his belt, began to read the crabbed, pointed handwriting that was fast becoming all too familiar to him:

_Artemis. We know where you are. Tell me, will you truly do this? Will you truly risk everything – your reputation, your health, your life – for the sake of this drow child? I can see the expression on your face – of course you will. You continue to surprise and delight me, my dear assassin._

_I thought you might like to know something – the child stopped talking today. A relief more than not; his cries were most annoying. He has stopped calling for you._

_Your time is running out. Tick-tock, Artemis. Tick-tock._

_-R_

Entreri could feel the blood draining from his face as a feeling of numbness spread rapidly across his body. His first reaction was that of incredulous disbelief – but this sensation was quickly buried under a wall of cold fury. He would not, _could_ not, believe what his eyes were telling him. His hands, still clenching the note, were quivering, but he took no notice as his eyes scanned the words over and over again.

Aari … did not stop talking. Never. Not _ever_. It was something that, more often than not, drove Entreri crazy, but it was true. No one and nothing, not even the gods themselves, could quiet the chatty youngster. It was impossible, like saying that the sun had jumped down from the sky and was raiding a midwife's pastry jar. Entreri had watched Aari ceaselessly chattering away as they were running for their lives; when the youngling had fallen from a particularly high tree and broken his leg; when he'd caught a stubborn fever that had laid him up for over a week. Never once, when the drowling had been conscious, had he been quiet, had he heeded Entreri's constant demands for silence. Not once.

He stood rigidly in the center of the alley for a minute or so more, and then abruptly turned, striding quickly away, the scrap of parchment crumpled in his fist.

* * *

Later, in the warmth of the Dancing Yeti, Drizzt and the others glanced upwards to see their unwilling companion marching across the room like a great, dark thundercloud. His bearing was rigid and tense, and his expression put the worst of Bruenor's glowers to shame. They watched, stunned, as he halted in front of their table and, leaning forwards slightly, dropped a crumpled scrap of paper in the midst of their plates. 

"We leave before dawn," the assassin stated in a low, ominous voice that brooked no debate; a note of urgency broke through his cold mask, allowing the companions to glimpse how truly rattled he was. "No delays."

With that, he turned and stalked away towards his room, bringing the maps of the Crags along with him, leaving a stunned quintet behind him.

After a long, bewildered moment passed, Drizzt reached out and picked up the note from where it rested atop one of Regis' plates, gently un-crumpling the parchment. As he scanned the note, his violet eyes widened in shock, and, wordlessly, he immediately offered it to Catti-brie. Glancing at it, she immediately realized what had startled her friend.

"I know," she murmured to him quietly, passing the grimy note on to Regis. "Suren 'tis passin' strange."

"Indeed," the ranger agreed under his breath, thinking once more of the extraordinary line – "…_for the sake of this drow child?_..."

Shaking his head, Drizzt repeated to himself, "Passing strange, indeed."

* * *

A/N: Review replies! Oh, fairest reviewers, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways ... 

**Shadir:** ¡Dios Mio¡ Soy una estudiante de Español¡ Estoy muy contento que su quiere mi cuento! Lo siento si mi gramática es mal, porque no hablo español con nunca soltura. ¡Este es estupendo! Yo pienso que este es genial que un español (o una española) es leyendo mi cuento. ¡Muchas Gracias!

**Surreptitious Chi X:** **((cackles))** Well, I have been working on it! (In between reading your stories!) Though, I expect you are now sitting on even _more_ pins and needles ... God, I'm evil aren't I? But the cackling makes it all worth it ... And I'm glad you like the way I use the flashbacks! Sometimes, I feel like I'm telling two stories at the same time - which, really, I am. Which is cool. Especially since I developed this technique in seventh grade, or thereabouts ...

**Lessihannamoray:** Yes, Aari is _very_ enthusiastic, isn't he? It's part of his charm ... and part of his flaws. Yep. He's one hyper kid. Glad you thought Catti-brie's shock is appropriate - I mean, it's just so _odd_! Really! Even I think so!

**Iceheart Firesoul: **Absolutely. Aari definitely has someone watching out for him. Can't tell you who! **((evil cackles))** Hopefully, I managed to crack somewhat into Drizzt's skull this time ... I hope ...

**MajinBakaHentai:** Hmm. Yes, Aari's age is a subject of much debate, even with myself. I'm going by Drizzt's childhood in "Homeland", actually - but factoring in the fact that the good ranger led an intentionally sheltered life, whereas Aari was raised more-or-less as a human child. (Hint? What hint? ...) Also, he was on his own for a while before meeting up with Entreri. Children forced to fend for themselves tend to mature much more rapidly than usual, and I'm banking on the idea that, what with what upbringing is generally like on the surface, Aari would possess a great deal more maturity than most others of his race. He is still a child, and will remain so for quite some time - as is hopefully demonstrated by his often immature antics thus far. These, of course, are all guesses that have good chances of being wildly off the mark.

**Lunatic Pandoral: **Huh. Really? I was kinda going off Salvatore's novels, which suggest that, while drow have red eyes when using the infrared spectrum, in the visible light spectrum they have eyes of a more normal color. (In the light, for example, Drizzt's mother had green eyes. Fact.) I actually thought that dark blue wouldn't be all that bizarre - nothing so bizzarre as Drizzt's, which are unique because they are violet in _both_ spectrums.

**Feye Morgan:** Hooray! I'm so glad you braved the badness that is "possible OOC Entreri"! I'm glad you don't think Entreri is sappy, or that Aari is annoying (well, to _us,_ anyway ... he can annoy the hell out of Entreri at times). And, yeah, revamping can be hard, but this is actually going fairly smoothly. I'm just worried about when I no longer have my old files to act as guidelines and must forge out on my own into the wilderness of this tangled fic. Egads ... Anyways, THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!!!

And, much thanks to **DarkEcho-in-the-sky**, **Zila**, **Aislin**, **Tsuchi**, **Luma66**, **Kela Dell**, and **Victoria Wolf. **I LOVE YOU GUYS ALL SO MUCH! **((tears))**


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